The Paradox of War and Other Drabbles
by aadarshinah
Summary: Various Drabbles in the Ancient!John 'verse, posted in the order they are written  McShep
1. The Paradox of War

The Paradox of War and Other Drabbles

Drabbles in the Ancient!John 'verse

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><p>#1 - The Paradox of War<p>

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><p>"The paradox of war is that those leaders who are most willing to endanger that which they love can be the ones most liable to win, and therefore most likely to protect their men."<br>Dave Grossman _On Killing_

Takes place at any point after "Pastor" but before "Liberator"

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><p>Rodney never falls in love with John Sheppard, the Pegasus galaxy native who'd been shanghaied into becoming their military leader. He's seen that John shoot down pursuing Wraith with such cool efficiency that it was impossible to forget that he'd spent his entire life as a solider in a war his people had eventually lost. It's a frightening thing and, sometimes, it's hard to forget that that look could have just as easily been turned on them if he'd determined the Expedition had been a threat to Atlantis. The Marines, when they see it (or, more specifically, the alien bloodshed that comes with it), immediately decide they like having an Ancient as their commanding officer and adopt him into their military, calling him Major Sheppard and complaining good-naturedly that his skills are wasted as a pilot, even if he is a damned good one.<p>

Major John Sheppard is a hard man. Not cold or cruel or heart-less, as some of the Expedition seems to think, though he creates the persona of being too calm, too cool, too causal to truly care about the lives of the Terran descendants who populate his city. He smiles at them in hallways. He grieves with them when the lives of their colleagues are lost. He appears not to know them as anything more than faces, with names and titles – and, if they're lucky, a skill set or two.

But Major John Sheppard is not a real man.

He knows this. He'd been the one to find him in the first place, bleeding to death in the Control Chair.

Still, its hard to remember that John isn't John, that there is no John, that John's just something an Ancient named Iohannes Ianidedus Licinus Pastor has chosen to answer to, even if it's Iohannes who he watches old SyFy with late into the night, and Iohannes who brings him coffee when he works too long in his lab, and Iohannes he's fallen in love with.

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><p><strong>an:** This and other drabbles have been posted on my lj and AO3 accounts already; I decided should have a copy too, and they will be posted in the order they were written


	2. Suit of White

#2 - Suit of White

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><p>"Well, there's things that never will be right I know, And things need changin' everywhere you go, But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right, You'll never see me wear a suit of white."<br>Johnny Cash "Man in Black"

Set on Atlantis after "Heres" but before "Dei et Viri," just before the episode "Duet" picks up.

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><p>"Y'know," Lieutenant Cadman tells him as they're getting ready to step through the porta for a world rumour has it has been recently culled. They're hoping to find survivors from the descendant population there; people who can tell them how many darts came, how many they took, and how long they were there. It's not as good as sneaking aboard a Wraith hive and stealing information on their troop movements and numbers, but they've been able to maintain the fiction that they'd destroyed Atlantis rather than let the Wraith get their hands on it for almost four months now and doing something so blatant would give them away for certain, "if the goal is to remain hidden, shouldn't we be flying under false colours or something here?"<p>

"False colours?" he asks. There are thousands of idioms in the Terran language of English. He's picked up a lot, and Atlantis has updated his translation matrix to include several of Expedition members' native tongues, but he's not heard this one before.

"Like not wearing the Expedition uniform when we go off-world. Something Athosian, maybe." She wrinkles her nose, perhaps thinking costumes like Teyla's would be difficult to hide body armour under, "Or Ancient. I bet no one would mess with us if we were dressed up like Ancients."

Iohannes considers this for a moment. One could at least hide a Kevlar vest underneath the elaborate outfits some of his people had worn, but, "Impractical," he decides in the end.

"Yeah. I guess it'd be pretty hard to make P90s and M249s look like Ancient energy weapons."

"That too."

"Why? White not your colour sir?"

"Not exactly, no." It's actually the laces he's thinking about – the elaborate ties down the back of the ribbed brigandines and heavy leather vambraces that were part of the standard guardsmen'suniform. Tying (and especially untying them) was impossible to do with any alacrity. Several career military, like himself, rarely bothered removing the vambraces at all during the Siege, the quicker to get into uniform should the Wraith suddenly decide to attack.

They're standing at the foot of the Control Room stairs, he and Cadman, with a couple other Marines as they wait for the rest of their away team – primarily Rodney and Carson, who Elizabeta has insisted on talking to right before they're set to leave. Major Lorne, however, is really the only one close enough to overhear their conversation, and snorts at the last.

Cadman just laughs. "You do pull off the whole man in black thing fairly well. Sir."

"Don't know that one either."

She looks confused for a moment, pausing in the middle of retying her hair before answering. "No, it's not a metaphor. It's Johnny Cash. I brought some of his music with me – you can borrow it if you like after the mission. Y'know, if none of us wind up in the infirmary after."

Iohannes nods non-committally. Other members of the Expedition have tried introducing him to Terran music, but he's discovered that after so many years of listening to Atlantis and her never-ending song that nothing else sounds quite right. Not even the classical artists that Rodney had tried introducing him to.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a country music fan, Lieutenant," Lorne says.

She shrugs, settling her hat back on her head. "I shared an apartment with a girl from Nashville for a while. It was either learn to like it or go mad, and I figured a disappearing roommate wouldn't look good on my service record, so..."

Before she really has a chance to continue, the rest of their team joins them, and then Chuck's dialling the gate and, well, that was that.


	3. Nothing Collapses

#3 - Nothing Collapses

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><p>"...the smallest sprout shows there is really no death, and if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, and ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, and to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier."<br>Walt Whitman "Song of Myself"

Takes place between parts 2 & 3 of the "Dei et Viri" arc. Ie, the episode "Trinity"

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><p>The Terran medics take the bodies from the auxiliary control room and move them to the infirmary. With the five they found at the outpost, it means there are twelve of his people in body-bags throughout the room. Iohannes also takes this to mean that four people, not counting himself, left the control room alive that day so long ago, to go with the others through the porta to Terra. They probably Ascended too, and are still out there, somewhere, in some form. He probably even spoke to them, or something, during the three minutes he was Ascended before Colonel Everett and his team arrived.<p>

Somehow, that makes things a little better.

Still, the difference between the bodies they found at the Dorandan outpost and the ones discovered on Atlantis is striking. The first show every bit of their age and are identifiable only by the names on their pendants. But the others...

The one's from the auxiliary control room are perfectly preserved, looking almost exactly as he left them, like they can't have been dead for even twenty-eight hours. It hurts, seeing them like this, but less somehow than seeing the group from Project Arcturus.

Iohannes is standing by Nicolaa's body, thinking just this, when Rodney storms in.

"Why," he accuses from across the room as he enters, "do I have to hear from Katie Brown of all people that you're in the infirmary?"

"I'm fine," he says, getting sick and tired of having to tell people – Carson, Doctor Heightmeyer, and various medical attachés – this as he looks up. "And why were you talking to Katie Brown? I thought you were still avoiding her after the Cadman Incident."

(The Cadman Incident is what they call the unpleasant week where Lieutenant Cadman's consciousness had cohabited Rodney's body following their botched removal from a Wraith dart, in which the most uncomfortable part was, by far, Cadman's misinterpretation of a dinner and biology department review as a date. Katie, thankfully, was very understanding about the whole matter, and that – and the fact that Cadman really is extraordinarily good at her job – is the only reason Iohannes hasn't asked the Lieutenant to pack her bags for the Daedalus' return journey.)

Rodney harrumphs, recrossing his arms and lingering by the door. His eyes, however, don't hold the agitation the rest of his stance projects, and examine Iohannes quite thoroughly as he replies, "It's not as easy as you'd think, even if the size of the Expedition has increased tenfold. But, in this case, she tracked me down, wanting to know what sort of flowers to send you. I told her giving you flowers would probably send you into some sort of existential crisis while you tried to figure out what she meant by them, and then asked why she'd want to give you flowers in the first place. Lo and behold, I discover that you've gotten yourself sent to the infirmary – again – and no one's bothered to tell me. I'm temped to say something disparaging about the American Uniform Code and how, if you'd decided to join a civilized nation's military, I could actually be listed as your emergency contact without eyebrows being raised, but, one, Carson knows better and, two, you actually do appear to be fine, so..." Rodney uncrosses his arms and moves to join him next to Nicolaa's gurney. "What happened to her?"

Nicolaa is unnaturally pale – she was always fair, but in death her skin is almost translucent from the blood-loss she suffered when the window on the other side of her console had shattered. Shards of glass are still embedded up and down her entire right side, and the blood staining her brigandine and matting her hair is only just starting to dry. "A Wraith dart hit the tower she was working in."

"What? When was this?" he sounds startled, hand starting to go to his radio.

"About ten thousand, two hundred and four-and-a-half years ago."

"Ah," Rodney says, hand falling back to his side somewhat sheepishly.

There's something about his silence that makes Iohannes need to talk, to explain why he's here rather than letting the medics take care of it all. But the only words he has are, "Her name is Nicolaa de Luera Pastor."

Rodney, at least, understands what it is to be pastor, to be custodia, and nods. "And the scientist you were talking about earlier? Who was he?"

"Andeo Mael-"

"-Forcul, yes, you said. But who was he? To you, I mean. Because I like to think, no matter how much you've got the others fooled, I know you, and know that there's more to this Forcul than his being just one of your father's colleague's."


	4. From Across the Distant Shore

#4 - From Across the Distant Shore

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><p><em>"Lay Down Your sweet and weary head. Night's falling, You have come to journey's end. Sleep now. Dream of the ones who came before. They are calling From across a distant shore."<em>

Annie Lennox "Into the West"

Takes place immediately followling "Dei et Viri" and before "Socii." Ie, the end of "Trinity"

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><p>"John!" he says as the planet begins to shake underneath them, "John! C'mon, snap out of it. We've got to get out of here."<p>

John, however, doesn't give any sign he's heard him, just continues to lie on the floor, eyes closed in concentration as he remains uplinked to the Dorandan outpost. Rodney's not even sure he can break the data-link with the weapon going into catastrophic failure, and so doesn't waste time trying, just starts to stand and make for the jumper controls to fly them out of here himself, 'cause, if they don't get out of here soon, they're going to be just as toast as the rest of this planet – and quite possibly this system – are going to be in a few minutes.

Which, of course, is when Rodney's knocked off his feet, by the jumper starting to fly them off the planet of it's own accord. Which is more than a little odd considering the jumper's don't have autopilots, and, even if they did, they wouldn't be pulling manoeuvres like these, which were almost too fast for the inertial dampeners to compensate.

"John?" he asks, shaking his shoulder after he's managed right himself (and discovered that, yes, the floor of the jumpers are just as hard as you might expect). There's no response, prompting him to mutter, "Great, even unconscious you can fly this thing better than I can," before continuing more loudly as he makes for the front of the jumper, "Head for the gate. It's the only way we're going to get out of here fast enough."

If he was still capable of being surprised by anything in the Pegasus galaxy at this point, he would've been when the jumper immediately starts it's run for the gate, barely giving him time to dial – and warn Atlantis they were coming in hot – before they're passing through the event horizon.


	5. Compexities or Pride

#5 - Compexities or Pride

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><p><em>"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride. So I love you because I know no other way than this..."<em>

Pablo Neurda "XVII"

Takes place, chronologically, at any point after "Socors"

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><p>Once, in the early days of their relationship, Rodney had asked him what he would have done if his plan hadn't worked.<p>

"What d'you mean?" Iohannes had asked in return, sleepy and sated and trying to bury his face further into the crook of Rodney's neck.

"I mean, what if the others had found you before you got to the Chair Room? What would you have done if you'd been forced to go back to Earth with them?"

"That wouldn't have happened. 'Lantis was keeping an eye out for me."

He didn't have to see Rodney's face to know he was rolling his eyes. "Yes, yes, but what if?"

With a groan, Iohannes had pulled away from Rodney's warmth to look at him blearily. One of the most annoying things about the Terran was that his post-coital haze lasted for all of about sixty seconds, after which he went back to being his normal self. Not that Iohannes didn't like Rodney's normal self, he'd just have preferred another five minutes of basking in the afterglow before the conversation restarted, particularly when it involved talking about his life before the Exodus. Luckily however, most the time it was more along the lines of So, what did you think of that Star Trek episode? or Guess how my idiot subordinates tried to kill us this morning. Still, the time after sex was supposed to be spent, oh, he didn't know, cuddling, not talking about possible alternative histories, particularly ones that meant the two involved in said discussion would never have met.

"Father's eminentia said something about trying to find a way back to Atlantis. I guess I probably would've helped him with that."

Rodney had nodded like this was expected. And maybe this was. "What about the rest of the time?"

"Rest of the time?"

"When you weren't working on trying to come back. I mean," he'd asked, voice strangely light, "would you have settled down, had a family, or would you have been two hermits in the middle of the wilderness somewhere, or what?"

"I dunno. I never really gave much thought to settling down with anyone 'til I met you, so whatever Father would've wanted, I guess. Why?"

Rodney had made a brief choking noise at this, and dipped into a silence so long that Iohannes thought he'd drifted off to sleep and tried to do the same.

He was only being honest, but he thinks by the way Rodney acts afterwards that, if the other man had ever had doubts about their relationship, they were gone after that. It makes Iohannes want to track down everyone who'd ever hurt his amator and teach them a lesson once he realizes this, but he settles for saving the last muffin for him at breakfast the next morning. He's not certain, but he thinks Rodney would appreciate this sentiment better anyway.


	6. Less For His Plan

#6 - Less For His Plan

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><p><em>"A dreamer, a good man, a kind man who cared less for his plan than for the people in it."<em>

Orson Scott Card's Hart's Hope

Takes place midway through part 2 of "Socii" or so.

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><p>"So," Sheppard asks, dragging a chair over from across the room, "how do I go about promoting Lieutenant Cadman?"<p>

Evan looks up from his paperwork, surprised. The surprise isn't so much because of Sheppard wanting to promote Laura – with the minor exception of her actions while sharing Doctor McKay's body, the Colonel's been nothing but glowing in his praise for the Marine – but because of his presence. Granted, Evan has set up his own desk in the outer room of Sheppard's offices, but he's never actually seen the other man in them before now. Which is saying something, as Evan sometimes feels he lives in this room whenever he's not off-world, doing paperwork and whatnot that his CO can't be bothered to do. Not that he's complaining. It's the same mess he'd have to do at any duty station, but here at least he gets a window and a hell of view while doing it.

But, still, he has to ask, "You want to promote her? Might be hard, considering she just shot Colonel Caldwell."

"He had a goa'uld in him," Sheppard says casually, literally waving the question off as he straddles his chair. "He'll be fine. 'Sides, that's one of the reasons I want her promoted. Shooting a superior officer? It takes chutzpah."

"Chutzpah," he repeats disbelievingly.

"Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, Lieutenant Pritchard is a good guy, but I think 'Lantis would stand a better chance if something happened to us and Cadman was third-in-command instead of Pritchard. She loves Atlantis, is decent with people, and is willing to do what's necessary to protect them both, which is what we need at the moment."

"I wasn't arguing with you," Evan says, shifting in his chair. "I just want to know where you picked up a work like chutzpah."

"You'll be surprised what you can learn when people don't think you can understand them," the Ancient says obliquely, barely managing to keep a sly grin off his face. "So, you agree."

"Completely, though I'm not sure she has the time-in-grade to qualify for captain. I'll have to look that up..." He starts to do just that, pulling up the records they'll need on his computer, when a thought strikes him. "This mean if shoot you, I'll get a promotion too?"

The Colonel actually appears to think about it. Then, "You're a good officer, good at what you do, and, more importantly, 'Lantis likes you. Despite that, though, I don't think they'll let me keep you if we're both lieutenant colonels, so you'll just have to wait until they get around to making me full colonel to get that next promotion. That going to be a problem?"

Evan blinks at this. "Er, no sir?" he says somewhat dazedly, 'cause, really, what else is there he can say? Atlantis is the posting of a lifetime, and if Sheppard's willing to go to lengths to keep him here, well, he's not going to argue, particularly if it puts him on the career fast-track. Though, when it comes to Atlantis, he'd almost be willing to be bumped back down to lieutenant himself if it means he'd get to keep this post.

Sheppard just grins at him, as if he knows exactly what Evan's thinking, and raps his knuckles on a bare patch of desk. "Don't worry, Major: I've got plans for you. First, though, let's get Lieutenant Cadman squared away. Okay?"


	7. And The Heavens Above

#7 - And The Heavens Above

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><p><em>"The Earth shall be rent, and the heavens above."<em>

The Skarpåker Stone

Set between chapter 2 & 3 of "Socii"

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><p>"Hey guys," John says, taking the Gate Room stairs two at a time. "Glad you could make it."<p>

"Glad you could make it?" Rodney repeats, scrambling out of his seat and down the steps after him, 'cause, seriously, he wasn't entirely sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. What would the Asgard want with Atlantis? And, better yet, what why John have invited them here, when Lantea was pretty much on the opposite end of the known universe from their homeworld?

John, naturally, chooses to ignore him and continues, "I didn't think you guys would show up for months yet. Also kinda figured you'd call ahead, give us some advanced warning or something. But, nevermind. We've got tonnes of room if you want us to set you up down here, if not, your ship's welcome to stay in orbit or set down on the north pier."

"Although your offer of hospitality is appreciated, we would prefer to get started right away," says one of the Asgard, the one standing in between and slightly in front of the other two.

"Sure thing." John says, a massive grin on his face as he turns around. "Rodney, mind seeing if Lorne's gotten section seventy-three checked out yet?"

"Seventy-three?" That section's on the far end of the east pier, right near the water, where the expedition hasn't ventured save to do more than a cursory damage check following the Storm and the Siege respectively. It doesn't break the top fifty of things to see on Atlantis before you die and is probably not high on Lorne's check for goa'uld sabotage list either. "What's in seventy-three?"

"A lab I told Hermiod the Asgard could borrow. This is Doctor McKay, our head scientist, by the way" he says, turning back to face the Asgard, "and I'm Iohannes Ianideus Licinus Pastor, military commander of Atlantis. But you probably already knew that."

"Indeed," says one of the Asgard.

"Yes, yes," Rodney says, not caring whatever or whomever it is he might be interrupting, "but why are they here?"

John just flashes him that almost-manic grin again and announces, "To save the Asgard race, of course."


	8. What You Are

#8 - What You Are

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><p>"<em>Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honour to be found in Men. But you will not see that. You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are."<em>

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Another bit between parts 2 & 3 of the "Socii" arc

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><p>Elizabeth's not the kind of person who generally shouts when she's angry. She's usually the quiet type, radiating an intense energy of disapproval and disavowal that's usually somehow worse than the harshest dressing down. Which wasn't to say there aren't exceptions – why, just last week she'd been yelling at him for the whole Doranda incident – but they were few and far between, and usually relegated to situations that could have meant death for those involved.<p>

Which is probably why there are so many people hovering in the Control Room, all trying not to look like they're only there to listen in to the shouting match going on behind the Conference Room's closed doors.

"...something like this?" Elizabeth shouts, and Rodney can just imagine her pushing herself out of whatever seat she'd taken at the table, hands resting in fists on the wood as she finally stops trying to hide her acrimony.

He can just as easily imagine that John's been standing the entire time, staring at her a little too intensely while Elizabeth speaks her part. Then, voice like steel, "They needed help."

"That's not the point."

"Then what, Elizabeta, is?"

"The point is, Colonel, that you cannot just invite the Asgard to Atlantis without telling anyone."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because," Elizabeth says, her voice going icy, "you don't get to make those kind of decisions."

There's practically a draft as everyone in the Control Room sucks in their breaths at John's, "Somebody has to."

"Yes. It's the SGC's job, not yours."

"And let it be talked to death in some underground office? This is the survival of the Asgard race we're talking about here, not some petty trade agreement."

"I'm sure they would've-"

But the thing is, stubbornness is endemic to Atlantis. They're all too ornery for their own good – John with his need to protect Atlantis and her inhabitants, Elizabeth with her own particular brand of inflexible morality, and Rodney himself with, well, a very large list of his own – and it causes clashes like this, when they do happen, to be so much worse than they need to be.

"No," John interrupts, and Rodney can just imagine the expression on Elizabeth's face (which, though it's only imagined, is almost enough to make him cringe, even sitting as he is on the Gate Room steps, waiting for it all to be over), "they wouldn't've. They would've milked the situation for all the concessions they could get – as if the Asgard haven't given you more tech than you lot were ready for anyway. And, by then, it wouldn't have mattered because it would've been too little, too late."

"John-" Elizabeth tries again, her voice softer now, and Rodney has to wonder if he's the only one outside the Conference Room who hears it at all.

But John doesn't let her continue. "'Cause that's what this is all about, isn't it? The fact that you lot seem to think Atlantis is your secret weapon, like it will save you from all the enemies you've made for yourselves. The Goa'uld, the Wraith, the Ori. But it doesn't work that way. Technology doesn't make you invincible – it just gives you more ways to screw yourselves over."

There's a scramble after this, as the doors to the Conference Room tilt open and everyone tries to look like they weren't hanging on every word that they'd been able to hear. Not that it matters in the end. John just stomps off, ducking through a door that had looked and acted like a perfectly normal wall for the last eighteen months without even appearing to notice anyone else was around to see him. Which probably meant he'd seen every single one of them and couldn't stand to face any of them at the moment, not even Rodney.

The Control Room's silent for a long time, enough so that Rodney's footsteps almost seem to echo as he hauls himself to his feet and into the half-emptied Conference Room. If John doesn't want to deal with him right now, fine, but first thing's first-

"It's not you," he tells Elizabeth, waiting until he's standing almost beside her. He can be oblivious sometimes, but even he knows how much worse Elizabeth would feel if she knew all the eavesdroppers had overheard this too. "That he has a problem with, I mean."

"I know," she says softly, and Rodney leaves before he has to pretend not to see her like this, all quiet and broken and half of herself for the second time that day.


	9. Lost Engagements

#9 - Lost Engagements

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><p><em>"Vivas to those who have fail'd! And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And to those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes! And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known"<em>

Walt Whitman "The Song of Myself"

Set early S1, ie, post "Pastor," pre "Liberator."

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><p>The Terrans call Atlantis The Lost City.<p>

Their anthropologists have several ideas as to why – because the Gate address as lost, because they thought she had been destroyed, her rubble long lost to some alien sea; because it sounds better than The Last City in the tales of their ancient storytellers, amongst others – but Iohannes doesn't think any of them are quite right.

The Terrans called Atlantis lost because that what his people had thought her: lost to an enemy they could never defeat, not knowing he'd stayed behind to defend the urbs-naves. Lost, because, unlike the others, she hadn't been destroyed. No, she'd been lost the way they'd lost Avalon to the plague and the home galaxy to the haeretici before that: lost out of their own cowardice and blind, ancient fears.

But he doesn't tell the Terrans any of this, especially their anthropologists and particularly their praefecta, Elizabeta. They only trust him because they still believe their Ancients were as saints and could do no wrong. To tell them that their idols – his people, Iohannes himself – were not angels but rather risen apes, just as they are? That hard-won trust would vanish overnight, and then where would they be when the Wraith finally came, as they ultimately always would?

Dead and lost, in the Terrans' sense of the word, that's what.


	10. Human Flesh

#10 - Human Flesh

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><p><em>"There is probably no more terrible instance of enlightenment than the one in which you discover your father is a man — with human flesh."<em>

Frank Herbert _Dune_

About a day-and-a-half post-"What You Are," ie, between #2 and #3 of "Socii"

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><p>Rodney feels like he's ten-years-old again and caught in the middle of one of his parent's never-ending fights. The only difference is this time he has a proper lab to retreat to when things got tense enough, rather than what he'd been able to cobble together in his bedroom.<p>

(Well, that and he doesn't have to poke his head out every few hours or so to make sure Jeannie's okay, 'cause his parents were liable to forget about their two-year-old daughter when the going got rough enough. But since he still has to poke his head out to check up on some of his so-called scientists, who appear to have the combined intelligence of a not-so-bright two-year-old, he doesn't count that one.)

But still, other than that things are basically the same. There's the same tension in the air, the same terseness about the way they greet each other when they're all climbing the stairs to the Observation Room's balcony to watch the first ever attempted beaming-out of a goa'uld from a host.

"The Tok'ra," Rodney finds himself explaining unnecessarily as they wait for Carson and Hermiod to finish setting up their equipment, if only so they're not all standing there in pained silence, "have this bizarre laser-guided needle method of extraction that they refuse to let us look at the insides of, but we think it's a fairly similar idea. Beaming the goa'uld out, that is. The needle's probably just there for psychological value or something. I dunno. Either way, it's probably some kind of scavenged Ancient tech, like most of what the goa'uld use. Should be no reason why an Asgard beam shouldn't work as well as an Ancient one."

This provokes no response from either Elizabeth or John.

It also annoys the hell out of Rodney. If he'd wanted to deal with this sort of thing, he'd have stayed at home and gone to Université Laval rather than deal with the shit MIT makes its minor students put up with. Well, actually, no, he wouldn't've, but he might've actually felt bad about going to a college three hundred miles away and hardly ever visiting.

He's about to say something to this effect when John, appearing to realize this, takes pity on him. Or, perhaps, on Elizabeth, who's worrying her thumbnail as she watches the final preparations. Either way, speaks up then, his voice somewhat hoarse when he offers, "I'm a shitty human-being."

Rodney blinks at this. It's not the most eloquent apology he's ever heard, but it seems to do the trick, or, at least, startles Elizabeth long enough that she momentarily forgets she's mad at John and, with a half-laugh, asks, "What?"

"Human-being," John repeats, determinedly ignoring their gazes, "I'm a shitty one. Trust me, though, when I say I make a worse Alteran."


	11. Mixing and Joining and Mingling

#11 - Mixing and Joining and Mingling

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><p><em>"I do rest, but it is not sleep and I do not dream. I simply remember, the memories tumbling over one another, mixing and joining and mingling till I do not know when or where or how or why, and by nightfall it is unbearable and I rise from my troubled bed to howl at the moon or pace the corridors …"<em>

Garth Nix "Endings"

Takes place anytime after part 5 of "Advena" and before "Heres." While they're at the Miller's anyway.

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><p>"How do you do it?" Rodney asks him one night, when they're laying on the bed in Jeannie's guest room, just holding each other, because neither of them can sleep for the dreams that continue to haunt them all this time later.<p>

"Do what?" he asks, voice rough. He rarely, if ever, slept more than five hours at a time on Lantea; it shouldn't make a difference that Terra's days are fourteen percent shorter. But he knows that, when they finally give up all pretence and go downstairs, Jeannie's going to ask about the deep bags under their eyes, the ones that keep getting deeper every night, despite the fact there's no emergencies here to disturb their rest.

"This."

"Try to sleep?"

"No," Rodney tries to snap, though it comes out more tired and small than Iohannes thinks he intended, "I mean, wake up from a nightmare to find me having one of my own and manage to somehow keep the both of us from falling completely to pieces. It shouldn't be humanly possible."

"Well," he drawls, "I'm not human, remember?"

"We share ninety-seven percent of a genome; I'd say that's close enough when it comes to dealing with someone else's bad dreams."

Iohannes contemplates this for a long minute. Ninety-seven percent of a genome is a lot – enough, perhaps, for Father to father other children here with some Terran woman long-ago – but, he thinks, maybe not enough to explain this. "I've had a lot to lose sleep over in my life," he says at last, choosing to keep the details to a minimum, "I guess knowing how to deal with it is something that spills over to other people's nightmares."

Rodney's quiet for a long time. Then, "I don't suppose it gets easier."

He doesn't know what dream pulled his amator from sleep this time – if it was the memory of Gaul's death, or Grodin's, or the Siege, or something else entirely – but Iohannes knows it never gets easier and that his own dreams are haunted by things that happened long before he went into stasis.

He also knows this is exactly what Rodney doesn't need to hear. "Give it time," he says instead, pressing a quick kiss to his bare shoulder, and tries to make his words sound as honest as possible.


	12. Nothing You Must Become

#12 - Nothing You Must Become

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><p><em>"There is really nothing you must be and there is nothing you must do. There is really nothing you must have and there is nothing you must know. There is really nothing you must become. However, it helps to understand that fire burns, and when it rains, the earth gets wet."<em>

Zen Proverb

This takes place between "Pastor" and "Custodia," ie, in the first week of the Expedition.

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><p>"I've never seen the rain before," John says as she approaches the doorway he's leaning against. It's a soft, gentle rain – something she'd associate with late Spring back on Earth if she hadn't been reliably informed that it's just after midwinter on Lantea, the planet they've found Atlantis on – and really nothing special. There's a certain novelty to it, what with the too blue sky of an alien world serving as the backdrop and a far-flung star poking bright beams of light through the dove grey clouds, but it's still only rain.<p>

"Really?" Elizabeth asks, honestly surprised. "I would've thought..."

"Atlantis was submerged before my parents were even born. What little of my life I've not spent here has been in space. And, when I was able to visit other planets, we always made sure weather would be fair wherever we were visiting before passing through the porta..."

In the five days the Expedition has been on Atlantis, she thinks this is the most she's ever heard their resident Ancient say at one time, and it almost startles Elizabeth into silence, and she's not one to be easily detoured by foreign – or alien – leaders. The number of warlords and dictators she's mediated between verges on the absurd. And yet...

And yet John isn't just another warlord or dictator. He's an Ancient. A real, live Ancient, who'd been born about the same time humans had just begun to get a hand of farming and domestication of the more basic animals, when pottery had yet to be invented in the Levant and Jericho was still a small proto-city. He claims to have been little more than a common solider, abet one who can commune with Atlantis on some strange level, but still, he's an Ancient. And so, while the words come, they take longer than they otherwise might.

"And how do you like it?"

"I think it's brilliant," John says, turning slightly to flash her the widest smile she's ever seen. "I mean, it's nothing like flying, but it's kinda like, nature's done this all on it's own, y'know? Pulled the water up from the oceans, gathered them in clouds, and blown them here so it can come back down and start the process all over again. And it just happens, y'know, on every planet with the right kinda atmosphere. My people could change planets, give them the atmospheres necessary, but we never could build anything that could control the weather. Well, not well, anyway. It can almost make you see why our ancestors thought there were gods in nature."

Elizabeth looks out at the storm, pondering his words. "I can honestly say I've never thought about the rain that way."

"You think I'm being ridiculous." His words aren't accusing – they aren't said in anything short of the most charming, amused tone possible – but something in John seems to close down at this, as if he's regretting having shared anything at all and is trying to do undo whatever damage he believes this conversation has done.

"No, no," she says hastily. "Not at all. I just meant, when something's so common, like rain on Earth, that you tend to forget how miraculous it can be sometimes."

John beams at her.

"Well, as nice it would be to watch the rain all day, I actually came to see if you'd finished clearing out the rest of the rooms in tower twelve. I've got some impatient people looking forward to a hot shower and soft bed."

"I sent Ford your way with the room assignments about ten minutes ago."

"I guess I must have missed him."

"Yeah," John says distractedly, eyes flitting towards the ceiling. After a moment, he removes his black-on-grey uniform jacket and tosses it onto the nearest chair, and starts to walk out onto the rain-soaked balcony beyond.

"Wait," she says, grabbing his arm before he can pass through the doorway. "You'll get soaked, Major."

He raises his eyebrow at her curiously, telling her, "I know. 'Lantis said the same thing," and seeming genuinely puzzled as to the point of her comment.

"Then why are you going out there?" Without a jacket, no less, in the dead of Lantea's winter.

"'Cause," John says, smiling more brightly still as he shrugs of her grasp and steps backwards into the storm, "it's rain."


End file.
